


before the dawn

by bestie



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-23
Updated: 2018-09-23
Packaged: 2019-07-15 17:49:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,902
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16068194
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bestie/pseuds/bestie
Summary: It’s funny to her. It’s agame, and by the Maker, Trevelyan is winning.





	before the dawn

**Author's Note:**

  * For [SomethingProfound](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SomethingProfound/gifts).



> cassandra/f!trevelyan? amazing. show-stopping. wonderful. perfect. 
> 
> i hope, hope, hope this lives up to your expectations, SomethingProfound! have a happy black emporium <3

 “Maker’s breath, but you’re _fit_ , aren’t you?”

Cassandra stops mid-swing, loses her momentum, and goes tumbling right into the ground. Her ears burn red, not from the cold but from sheer _embarrassment_ , as Trevelyan bursts out into laughter.

“I’m sorry! I’m so sorry! Oh, come here,” says Trevelyan, and then she’s kneeling down, her hands wrapping around Cassandra’s arm to help lift her up. “I didn’t realize I would have an effect like _that_ on you. I would have kept my mouth shut if I did.”

Somehow, Cassandra manages a huff of laughter once she’s upright again. “It is appreciated nonetheless, Herald.”

Trevelyan raises a brow. “Is it? Good. I’ll keep that in mind on our trip, Pentaghast.”

 

\- - -

 

The lilted words and flutterings of eyelashes is becoming almost incessant. Trevelyan never misses a beat, nor an opportunity; if she sees an opening, she strikes without mercy, leaving Cassandra floundering as always. It’s funny to her. It’s a _game_ , and by the Maker, Trevelyan is winning.

There is plenty of time during the ride out to the Emerald Graves to think. Instead of thinking of anything proper or productive, Cassandra’s thoughts keep drifting to any of the many instances wherein Trevelyan has—toyed with her. At their first meeting, if it could be called that, she had something to say. (“I’d like to think that if I was being chained and interrogated by a beautiful woman, I’d be damn well paying for it.” She’d said that to get a rise out of Cassandra, surely. _Surely_.) But even as the months went by, and they grew closer in friendship, the teasing comments and playful touches never ceased. Cassandra, for her part, never asked for them to, nor did she _want_ them to.

Even now, stuck on their horses in the middle of nowhere for hours and with more hours left in the day’s trip, Trevelyan still makes the time to sneak glances at Cassandra, blowing her kisses or winking at her. And each time, Cassandra flushes and gives her the most annoyed look she can manage, which only ever serves to spur Trevelyan further.

The next time Trevelyan sneaks a glance, the Iron Bull says, “Boss, could you stop giving Cassandra those little looks? They’re worse than Varric and his crossbow.”

“I was about to protest,” says Varric, “but if you say they’re _worse_ , then yeah, I can agree to that.”

Cassandra stifles a groan, and Trevelyan snorts with laughter.

 

\- - -

 

“It shouldn’t be too complicated,” says Trevelyan, through a mouthful of jerky. She has a map spread open on her lap, with large, black circles marking the areas they need to patrol. “All we’re doing is scouting out their red lyrium suppliers If we’re careful, we can avoid fighting.”

“You’re not giving them enough credit,” says the Iron Bull. “Red lyrium-addled templars are vicious. You forget what happened at Haven already? They’ll sniff us out and come for us before we even know they’re there.”

The way Trevelyan stiffens is hard to miss.

Cassandra feels a bit of irritation rise up, bristling around her, but she bites her tongue - or rather, she bites through her hardtack, letting the floury thickness stop her from voicing her unneeded opinion.

“I do remember, actually. But thank you, Iron Bull,” Trevelyan snaps in reply. There’s a pause as she chews her food, glancing furtively around the campfire at her companions, before she clears her throat and continues, “Let me revise my statement: we shouldn’t _make_ it too complicated. In and out, easy does it. But if they come for us, we go for them. They’re the same as any other thing we have to carve our way through. We can’t hesitate.”

Later, though, in the heat of the moment, Trevelyan hesitates. Her sword fades out of existence.

Cassandra gets a full view of one of the suppliers elbowing her in the face; the clang of metal rings out, and that’s all Cassandra needs to see before she’s abandoning her current opponent in favor of charging at that man with all the speed and strength she can muster. The feeling that reverberates through her as her shield slams into him is almost too satisfying.

Trevelyan stares up at Cassandra for a moment, wide-eyed and bleeding profusely from her nose, before she blurts out, “Oh, I _love_ you,” and summons her sword to join the fray again.

Those words ring out in Cassandra’s mind again and again. Heat of the moment, surely. No meaning behind it. Something platonic at most; they _are_ friends, after all. A friendly love, perhaps even a familial love. Like sisters.

It’s almost too good to be true, but Cassandra tucks it away anyway, saving it to fight a little harder alongside Trevelyan the next time she gets the opportunity.

 

\- - -

 

“Why did you hesitate?”

The fire casts a warm glow on Trevelyan’s face. It shines in her eyes as they flicker up to meet Cassandra’s. Her lips part with a quiet gasp.

“I’m sorry,” Cassandra says next, quickly. “I...did not mean to offend.”

“No,” says Trevelyan, “you didn’t. I just—” She looks back toward the fire, sighing sharply, frustration clear in the furrow of her brow and the wrinkle of her nose. “I dunno. He looked me in the eye. Scared. Like he was about to beg. He was still a _person_. And I hate that. Demons are easier. They’re not people. There’s too many damn people.”

Cassandra nods. “It is hard, but for some, it can be easier to not think of them like that. Separating them may make a difference, if you wish to try it.”

“Is it? Is stripping their personhood away really easier?” Trevelyan’s teeth catch at her lip as she sighs again. “Don’t go thinking I’m mad at you. I’m not, I promise. I’m only — frustrated with the _world_.” And with another sigh, she shifts, her head coming to rest down on Cassandra’s shoulder. “At least you’ll listen to me.”

“That is what friends are for, isn’t it?” says Cassandra. She puts a hand on Trevelyan’s knee, squeezing it lightly.

“Yeah.” Trevelyan shifts even closer. “I suppose it is, yeah.”

 

\- - -

 

The opportunity comes unexpectedly.

Snow is an uneven surface to fight on. Emprise du Lion is _full_ of it. It’ll make for a good excuse.

But truthfully, Cassandra hasn’t been paying enough attention to what’s going on around her, and before she can even blink, a templar trips her up and tackles her to the ground. He’s not hesitating, his sword coming straight for her—

But then Trevelyan comes to the rescue like a dashing knight, her sword slicing through his armor with a hum of energy. He rounds on her, but his sword falls from his grip; a second later, his shield does too, and then he hits the ground with a thud.

The snow turns red. The glow of the lyrium encasing him starts to dim.

Trevelyan looks down at her, and for a fleeting moment, Cassandra thinks she sees fear in her eyes. But then she winks, flicks the blood off her sword, and turns in search of the next templar.

It’s lost above all the noise, but Cassandra still feels her heart stop for just a moment when she accidentally blurts out: “Maker, I _love_ you.”

But Trevelyan doesn’t hear her.

Good. _Good._

Se hoists herself up, shakes herself off, and gets back to the fight.

 

\- - -

 

Sleep can be hard to come by. Cassandra finds herself awake before the sun has risen, with only a scout too busy keeping a lookout to actually keep her company. So she busies herself with lighting the fire and stoking it as she counts the quickly-fading stars in the sky.

She’s not sure how long it’s been, but after a while, she hears footsteps behind her. They’re soft, deliberately soft, like they’re trying not to disturb her.

Someone sits beside her.

“Morning.”

Her voice is just as soft.

Trevelyan.

She slides closer to Cassandra, pressing their shoulders together.

“Good morning,” Cassandra says quietly, taking her eyes off of the sky to look aside at Trevelyan. “Did you sleep all right?”

“Better than you, I’d assume,” says Trevelyan. She smiles, turning her head towards Cassandra, and Cassandra is suddenly aware of how close they are. “I had some time to think.”

“Really? About what?”

Trevelyan hums quietly. “What you said. To make it easier. And I’ve really thought about it these past few weeks, you know?” She turns away, looking towards the sky. The sun is beginning to rise. “If I don’t think of some people as people, I’d have to not think of _anyone_ like that. At the end of it all, who of us wouldn’t be willing to give their life to stop Corypheus, yeah? It’s easy to think like that. Everyone’s a bit disposable. But, during the fight yesterday, I saw you, and for a split-second, y’know, I thought that. But then I realized…”

When she trails off, Cassandra isn’t sure whether to press or not. It stings, just a little— _disposable_. But before she can say anything, Trevelyan continues:

“Maker, that sounds terrible. You’re not—you’re _not_ disposable, I’m sorry, that’s not at all what I meant. I’m bad at this. We never… In the circle, it’s bad to—shit, wait. Hold on.” Whether it’s from nerves or genuine amusement, Trevelyan laughs, drawing her arms close around herself. “What I’m _trying_ to say, and failing horribly at, is that I’d _never_ want to think that about you. Or Bull, or Varric, or...any of you. But _especially_ you. Maybe it’s only a heat-of-the-moment thing, what I’m feeling...”

Another pause. This time, Cassandra waits patiently. She studies Trevelyan’s face, taking in every little detail as the sun’s early light casts a reddish glow on her, lighting her up. She looks holy.

Trevelyan continues to stare at the sky as she mutters, “But Andraste preserve me, I really do think I love you.”

Love.

“Oh.” Cassandra struggles to find any better words. “You… Oh.”

“ _Oh?_ What do you mean? Is that— Was that stupid?”

“Love,” says Cassandra, “by which you mean... _love_?”

Finally, Trevelyan looks back to Cassandra, with confusion written pure across her face. “Well, yeah. Love. That romantic thing people feel? You know what I’m talking about, don’t you?”

Cassandra can’t tell if the blood is rushing to or away from her head. Is she going pale or are her cheeks burning? “I— I am aware, thank you. I only meant… You love me? _Me?_ ”

“Have I not made it increasingly obvious?” The confusion turns to dread in seconds. “Oh, no. I didn’t. I thought it was clear as day. All the things I said. And did. And—”

Heat of the moment.

Cassandra leans in and kisses her.

It’s quick, chaste, but sweet, and most importantly, all that falls from Trevelyan’s lips when Cassandra pulls back is a quiet, “ _oh_ ,” which allows Cassandra the time to say, “I love you too.”

Trevelyan’s cheeks flare red, and she ducks her head down to hide a smile as she laughs. “Yeah,” she says, and then peeks back up as she continues, “I heard you. During the fight. Figured it was good a time as any to let you know.”

Oh, of _course_. Cassandra swears, laughing despite herself, and presses her forehead to Trevelyan's. “You cannot let the moment last even a second longer?”

“Next time, I swear on it."


End file.
